


A Serpent's Lair

by OneofWebs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Consent Play, Crowley Has Two Penises (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dom/sub Undertones, Double Penetration, Experienced Crowley (Good Omens), Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Plug, Naga, Naga Crowley (Good Omens), Nipple Play, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Roleplay, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 15:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: Aziraphale wanders into a cave hoping to find Crowley. He does find Crowley, who has inadvertently created a new mythical creature by being caught mid-transformation. Now, with the lower body of a snake and quite the ego, Crowley decides to use the sudden situation as a good excuse to give Aziraphale what he's been craving for centuries--the deflowering of a life time.





	A Serpent's Lair

**Author's Note:**

> AYYYY The discord convinced me to write another smut fic. Featuring Naga!Crowley, because there's just not enough Naga!Crowley content around here. 
> 
> Do enjoy! Had much fun writing.
> 
> Aziraphale is a needy whiney little bottom and you can pry this from my cold, tartar sauce covered hands.

Increased tension. Something or other like that, really, but that’s exactly what Aziraphale had been told. It had been a rather pleasant read letter directly from Gabriel, telling Aziraphale that he was needed immediately in Northern India. The details had included nothing more about what increased tension was, but there was suspected demon activity. They needed confirmation and hoped that Aziraphale would be able to deal with it alone; he had been dealing with it alone for some several centuries at this point, so it wouldn’t be too difficult. They trusted Aziraphale to do his thwarting without any details, and really, Aziraphale wouldn’t need details. He knew exactly who was behind this _increased tension_—whatever tension had been there to begin with and just what it had been increased too entirely unimportant and irrelevant.

Aziraphale was even rather excited for his trip. He hadn’t been to India in recent memory, which didn’t mean much given how new everything still was, in comparison to how old it would be eventually. It was more than just a pleasant field trip, however. All of it had to do precisely with the fact that Aziraphale knew exactly who was behind this. It had to be Crowley, especially with the given suspicion of demon activity. As far as Aziraphale knew, Crowley was the only demon on Earth, and he hadn’t seen him in just enough time to make this _exciting_. Crowley, demon as he was, had always been so kind. Aziraphale really did look forward to seeing him, and this seemed a perfect excuse.

The journey would be long and arduous if Aziraphale chose to do it properly. Or, he could send himself straight to the general vicinity and do the rest the tedious, arduous way. He opted for the latter. His excitement was getting the better of him; while the true motivation should have had something to do with thwarting Crowley’s demonic threat, Aziraphale wouldn’t deny himself his excitement. He’d always liked to dabble in things with a bit too much human. This way only made sense. He could stop the _increased tension_ in conversation alone. From there, it would feel more like a social call. Being an angel, he didn’t get many of those. Aziraphale was certainly looking forward to it.

Only, his quick location miracle led him to a dusty outskirt area with mountains and rolling rocks. It wasn’t quite the plush little town he’d imagined he’d find Crowley in. He’d already planned to find a nice place to sit down and talk over some local cuisine, but that wasn’t an option this far outside of town. When he looked around, there was no _town_. They were about as far out in the middle of beige nowhere as they could get, and he wasn’t even near Crowley. He was close enough to walk, but not close enough to see. Crowley wouldn’t be too difficult to spot out in the middle of nowhere like this. Even grass seemed scarce, but Aziraphale wasn’t too shocked by that.

Eventually, his wanderings led him to a small cave. Everything told him that he should not, under any circumstances, enter that cave. Even if he could _feel_ Crowley was just beyond the entrance, doing whatever it was Crowley did in a small cave. It felt dangerous, though. It felt _wrong, _almost. Like something was wrong. Like Aziraphale should turn around, tell Gabriel he’d done all he could, and go off to find some curry for himself. If he was any other angel than Aziraphale, he would have done just that. Aziraphale was himself, in every way, and when he smelled that lure into the cave, he followed it. He didn’t over think, he didn’t consider his options—he simply stepped inside the cave.

It took only moments for his eyes to adjust, and not for any superhuman ability like seeing in the dark. That had never been his thing, and even a miracle wouldn’t make it possible for him. The body he was in came with simple limitations like that. It was for, rather, just around the corner of the entrance light was streaming out. The cave was a large, open area, and Aziraphale knew it for Crowley’s area in the moment he saw it. There was a hole in the roof of the cave, one that let the sun stream down and bask over a very large, perfectly designed rock. If it wasn’t for the fact that Aziraphale could _see_ Crowley, there, lounged out on a chair shaped rock, he would have known this for Crowley’s current dwelling for the simple fact it was filled with lavish and important things. Gold, jewels, silks. All things Crowley loved.

The only issue was that Crowley was not exactly Crowley. Not in the way that he knew. His Crowley—Rather, Crowley himself, always had legs. This Crowley very much did _not_ have legs, and the bare skin of his hips disappeared down into scales. Black scales with a smooth, red underbelly. Aziraphale was looking at it, but he wasn’t quite _processing_ it, not in the way he needed to be for anything to click in his head. For anything to make sense. He didn’t even really know what he was looking at, only that he was moving closer. The moment his sandal hit a rock; Crowley jerked from his spot.

“Who’s there?!” Crowley bellowed out, and then his face softened. “Oh. Aziraphale, hey.”

“H-Hey?” Aziraphale was staring. He couldn’t help it. Crowley was lounging back on a rock, a _rock_, without a piece of clothing on. His hair was still long, partially braided down over his left shoulder, and the rest of him was bare. Or would have been bare if a speckling of scales hadn’t started just below his chest, until his skin disappeared entirely just at the hips. Scales, more scales—a tail.

“My eyes are up here, angel,” Crowley drawled. “Didn’t think I’d see you around. You need something?”

“Yes—no. No, I don’t,” Aziraphale shook his head and forced himself to look Crowley in the eyes. His very, very golden eyes. “I received notice that you were causing, well, _strife_ amongst the people.”

“You could say that,” Crowley agreed.

“Well, if that’s not correct, then just what _have_ you been doing?”

“Playing god?” Crowley suggested, though he didn’t seem to buy his own story by the strange little smile he offered Aziraphale. Aziraphale certainly wasn’t impressed with the excuse and folded his arms over his chest. “Alright,” Crowley sighed, “it’s stupid. I may have been caught up; I suppose is the best way to put it. Got stuck.”

“You got stuck.”

“Well, look at this place. Perfect place for a snake to slither on about. Figured I’d give it a go. Was interrupted by some locals, got stuck, and now they’re all off calling me a _naga_, or whatever.”

“A naga.”

“Something new, I suppose. Half man, half snake. Incredibly desirable.”

“Crowley—”

“Do you doubt me, angel?” Crowley smirked at him. He pushed himself off the rock, and Aziraphale swallowed a lump in his throat as he watched Crowley glide across the floor. He’d thought Crowley had been rather tall before, but with a tail for legs, he was towering. Quite like a monster, if Aziraphale were to be honest. But people, and angels, were supposed to be afraid of monsters. Aziraphale was not afraid. He was intrigued, even. He wanted Crowley to come closer. He wanted to feel those scales.

“Don’t you see all the things brought to me? The _gifts_,” Crowley snickered.

“Y-you seem quite proud of yourself,” Aziraphale said. It was the most obvious and innocent thing he could think to say.

“Oh, I am. You wouldn’t believe what these humans are willing to do to get close to me.” Crowley had slithered all the way around Aziraphale, until he’d come up behind him to rest his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Some of them,” he hissed, “don’t want to give me _things_, as gifts, you see—” Crowley’s tongue poked out through his teeth, his lips, and Aziraphale tried not to look.

“What do they want to give you?” Aziraphale should not have asked. He had to ask. He needed to know; damn that dreadful curiosity in him, but Crowley was so close and sounded so sure of himself.

“They give me _themselves_,” Crowley hissed, right up against his ear. There was no reason for Crowley to be so close, and they both knew they. They had to, because Crowley was suddenly pulling away and sliding around Aziraphale. Away from him. Back towards his rock. “Young women, young _men_—” Crowley glanced pointedly back over his shoulder, “—are all so eager to lay with me, you know.”

Aziraphale gulped. He should walk away. He should be offended at Crowley’s talk, and he should make that known. Crowley _bragging_ about how many humans he’d slept with was absurdly inappropriate, and Aziraphale didn’t have to listen to it. Oh, but he _wanted_ to.

“They fight over me, really,” Crowley mused. “To be the one that I choose—though, sometimes I take two. Three, sometimes,” he said, lounging back on the rock. “Once, the fight wasn’t even necessary. I let them take _turns_, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale could see that, and Crowley had made sure of it. The way he lounged back on his rock, arms spread out to brace him on the back of it, and how his tail spread out around the ground: all of it was distinctly designed so Aziraphale could _see_ the men and women who crawled over Crowley, who were desperate to get their hands on him, to feel his mouth—his _tongue_. Aziraphale tried painfully to keep his eyes on Crowley’s face.

“I don’t see why I need to know any of this—”

“I can smell it on you,” Crowley said, like it was that obvious. “Just thought I’d help you along, is all. You seem so prudish, anyway.”

Aziraphale stiffened. “Why, what a rude thing to say—”

“I’m right though, aren’t I? I mean, look at you.” Crowley smirked and leaned down into his hand. “Always so fine and put together. I can’t imagine the number of people who want to mess that up; mess _you_ up.”

Aziraphale didn’t say anything, then. He only flushed and frowned.

“I’m sure you’ve never let that happen, have you?” Crowley’s eyes tracked their way down and stopped pointedly at Aziraphale’s hips. “Do you even have anything down there, angel?”

“Crowley! That’s not—why, no! That’s not any of your business!”

All he had to do was leave. All Aziraphale had to do was turn around and walk back towards the entrance of the cave, snap his fingers, and be long gone before Crowley could slither out after him. Not that he thought Crowley _would_ chase him down. The idea did excite him, though, and he hated that it did. He hated that any of this excited him. Aziraphale would be lying to himself if he said he’d never found Crowley attractive; the issue was that all of this was surfacing _now_, when Crowley was stuck mid-transformation. Aziraphale was an _angel_. He had no business being attracted to a demon, and he had even _less_ business being attracted to a demon with a snake tail.

Yet, when he looked at Crowley, still sprawled out over his rock, Aziraphale could see _himself_ being one of those young men who clambered to get his hands on Crowley. To do even _more._ Aziraphale didn’t know much about snake anatomy, but he could very clearly see the slit in the red of Crowley’s underbelly, just rightly placed that Aziraphale didn’t have to guess what it was hiding.

“Oh, I think it is,” Crowley grinned. “I think it’s very much my business. If it wasn’t, you would have left by now.”

Crowley was right, and that was the unfortunate part. He had no reason to be right, and he had even less of a reason to know that he was right. The smug little look on his face said that that was exactly what he knew. Crowley had taken one look at Aziraphale and picked him apart, piece by piece, and he was going to blame it on _smell_, of all things. He could smell it on him, his want, his desire. What a ridiculous thing to say. Save for the fact that the truth was even worse, because he’d picked it apart by sight. Aziraphale wore it on his face. He wanted Crowley to take him apart piece by little unsuspecting piece.

“I—that is to say, Crowley!” Aziraphale did his best to maintain a scandalized look. He was failing and failing fast, falling, even.

Crowley picked himself back up off the rock, back up onto his tail, and grinned. “Aziraphale,” he said, and his voice was commanding, “if you want something, you know you only have to ask.”

And how stupidly true it was. All he had to do was ask. He’d always asked Crowley for things, when they were together. Surely, this would be no different. If he only _asked_, Crowley would take him apart. Crowley would tear his robes from his body. But it still felt so wrong to ask. He was an angel. There were codes and morals to uphold; _asking_ Crowley to ruin him like that, to take his innocence—it was unthinkable. Unheard of. If he just asked for it, surely someone would know. He’d be reprimanded. Worse—he’d _Fall_—not as if Heaven had ever known anything about his personal affairs. This wouldn’t be any different. It was just a personal thing. A deeply personal thing. The deeper, the better.

Yet, Aziraphale couldn’t seem to form the words. Crowley could tell he was struggling, and really, he only wanted to help. He took the silence as an excuse to slither closer, to close the distance and wrap around Aziraphale just once, loosely, where most of his tail draped around the floor instead.

“If you enter my cave,” Crowley said, and the air shifted around them, “you must offer me something before you can leave.”

An opening.

“I—I don’t have anything to offer,” Aziraphale admitted.

“Perhaps,” Crowley _hissed_, “I can _take_—” he leaned down and stole Aziraphale’s kiss straight from his lips. It was a hot, fiery thing where Crowley’s hands gripped around his jaw and pulled him close. The end of his tail coiled just a little tighter, and Aziraphale couldn’t help his need to moan, to lean into Crowley and let their bodies touch. Crowley was suddenly pulling back enough to lift Aziraphale up into his arms.

“Aziraphale—” Crowley tried, but Aziraphale just shook his head.

“Don’t,” Aziraphale whispered. “Just—I’ll tell you if I can’t handle this.” But he couldn’t say he wanted it. That much was left unsaid, and Crowley understood it painfully.

The rock was far more comfortable than it looked, Aziraphale found, when he was laid down on top of it. Crowley fitted around him, tail finding every little cranny to squirm into, and the very tip of it wrapped tight around Aziraphale’s leg. Crowley kissed him again and kissed him hard. Kissing wasn’t something Aziraphale did or had ever done. Crowley clearly had, and he was quite good at it. It was wonderful. All Aziraphale found himself able to do was hold onto Crowley’s shoulders for purchase and moan into the kiss. When Crowley’s tongue sought out the space between his lips, Aziraphale obliged. He would do anything Crowley asked of him, now. As long as Crowley _took _it—the questions all silent.

Crowley pulled at Aziraphale’s robes until they fell open around his shoulders his chest, and then he pulled away from their kiss to trail down along Aziraphale’s jaw. He pressed kisses along his neck, down to his collarbone, and all the while, Crowley’s tail coiled further and further up Aziraphale’s leg until he found his thigh, hidden beneath more fabric. He stopped just short of feeling just what sort of Effort Aziraphale was making, then pulled back to smirk at him some more. His tongue dipped out between his lips, his eyes fully golden, and the way he looked at Aziraphale had Aziraphale shivering beneath him.

“What oh _what_ have you got for me down here?” Crowley asked with venom in his voice.

Aziraphale stammered, attempted to form a response, but Crowley caught him. Like he always did.

“Too shy to say? They’re always shy,” he smiled, “for the first time. By the second time,” his hand snaked down Aziraphale’s body, over the plump of his stomach to grab at the hem of his robes, “they’re practically _begging_ for my cocks,” Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale felt his face go red. _Cocks_.

All at once, when Crowley started to pull the rest of his robes away, Aziraphale had a sudden moment of panic. Crowley would see him naked and back away immediately—he would see that Aziraphale was less than desirable, he had to. Surely, Crowley had slept with the finest the humans had to offer. Women with large, round breasts and wide hips. Men with thick cocks and hard bodies. Aziraphale was none of those things. He was soft, chubby, and his cock was anything but impressive. Maybe he could have fixed that, but—he did like the way he looked. He was just afraid Crowley wouldn’t.

None of his worst fears happened. Once his robes were peeled back, and he found the strength to open his eyes again, he looked at Crowley. Crowley, who as hovering above him and staring down between his thighs with _hunger _behind his pupils. Aziraphale looked just a little longer and realized, then, what Crowley was doing. Crowley’s own hand had pressed down over his hips, to where his slit was slightly swollen, slight parted. His tail had coiled tighter around Aziraphale’s thigh, pulling his leg to the side so there was more room for the _mass _of Crowley’s body to slither closer, so Aziraphale could feel the shift of Crowley’s scales as he leaned over him to steal a kiss.

Against the skin of his thigh, Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s hand moving, working open his slit. Every brush of Crowley’s fingertips set Aziraphale on fire, and he groaned into the kiss. He reached up to wrap his hands around Crowley’s neck, but then Crowley was pushing an arm back down. He needed to be able to move; Aziraphale felt rather silly, but he wanted to hold onto Crowley. He—he’d never wanted anything more in his life. He wanted Crowley close, to whisper in his hear, to _fuck_ him. Crowley’s hand on his cock suddenly said that maybe that was quite close to reality.

“You’ve got such a cute little cock,” Crowley said. He meant it as a compliment. It _sounded_ like a compliment. He dragged his fingers up the underside of Aziraphale’s prick and pulled back just enough that he could look at it. It was a short little thing, short and fat, and getting harder by the second. Every stroke of Crowley’s fingers jerked it to life, had it twitching with interest. Crowley even looked amused at how fast Aziraphale was responding, how eager he was in his arousal. Aziraphale’s hips bucked, rocked up into Crowley’s warm touch.

“You won’t last long,” Crowley said. He was counting on it, even, that Aziraphale would come apart with a few touches. “You may not even be _ready.__”_

“Crowley—don’t say that,” Aziraphale gasped. “I am ready. Anything you want, you can have it. Please, just—”

“Don’t ask,” Crowley said, darker. Closer than he’d been before. The tip of his tongue brushed across Aziraphale’s lips. “Don’t ask for a _thing_, angel.”

Asking meant that he wanted it, and Aziraphale couldn’t want this. Not aloud. Not where someone could hear him and punish him for his desires, but when Crowley kissed him again—Aziraphale moaned. He rolled his hips up to press into Crowley’s scales. When Crowley shifted, his underbelly rolled over Aziraphale’s mound and had him gasping into Crowley’s mouth. Crowley’s tongue was inside a second later, licking along Aziraphale’s teeth and over the roof of his mouth to find just a place that had Aziraphale gripping for purchase, anywhere he could find it.

There was a tight burning growing in his pelvis, and he didn’t know the feeling. He couldn’t place it. But then, Crowley was wrapping his fingers around Aziraphale’s cock and tugging him along. It took three strokes before Aziraphale was gasping, crying out, and coming over Crowley’s hand. Crowley pulled back, then, to smirk over him and continue to drag his fingers over Aziraphale’s skin. His prick was still hard, twitching, and excited for more. Crowley’s hand disappeared all at once to smooth down over his hips, his thighs. In the space between them, Aziraphale chanced a look down. He gasped.

“You like what you see?” Crowley asked. He shifted up farther, taller, to tower over Aziraphale and give him the view he wanted. “This form has some perks, I admit.”

Crowley was dripping. His cocks—_cocks_—were glistening with slick, thick and heavy with want. Aziraphale had never seen Crowley naked, had never known what sort of effort he would have or what it would look like. He’d certainly _dreamed_ of it, though. This had been beyond any dream he’d ever had. Maybe he’d spent one too many lonely nights thinking about Crowley with a thick, long cock. Dreaming about how Crowley would use it to pleasure him. Two cocks though, just as thick and long as Aziraphale had dreamed. Maybe Crowley was right.

There wasn’t time to worry about that, though, because Aziraphale was too caught up in the visage, watching Crowley stroke his cocks together. Aziraphale had never seen so much slick, and every stroke of Crowley’s hand just spread it farther. A droplet, a few, dripped down over Aziraphale’s thigh, and he shivered. He didn’t know what to expect, but Crowley dragging his wet fingers through the little mess, down through the crease of Aziraphale’s thigh and pelvis—that hadn’t been it. Crowley’s fingers sliding down over his perineum, pressing down in just the right way. Aziraphale gasped. He wished all at once that he wasn’t spread out on a rock, but on something he could _grab_, dig his fingernails into and ground himself.

A second passed, long enough for Aziraphale to breath, and then Crowley’s fingers were dipping down over Aziraphale’s hole. His hand shot up to cover the obscene sound that threatened to escape, but he was too late. Crowley heard the noise and preened for it, circling around the puckered entrance. It twitched opened, closed, like Aziraphale couldn’t really decide if this was a good idea. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t decide, because he _wanted_ it. Crowley breached him a moment later, the thick of his finger slipping right inside.

“C-Crowley—!” Aziraphale gasped and _did_ managed to cover his mouth this time. His voice was muffled, but he still cried out. He suddenly felt so full, and he couldn’t imagine how much _more_ he would feel. This was only one finger, _one_ finger, and already he felt like he could come again.

“Just take it, angel,” Crowley whispered. “You were _made _for this. Those prudish angels just didn’t want you to know.”

“To k-know? Know what?” Aziraphale pulled his hands down, wrung them together over his chest. Crowley was slowing working his finger in and out, just a subtle drag to get Aziraphale used to the feeling. It was a thoughtful thing, and every inch of movement had Aziraphale shivering. Crowley’s tail pulled Aziraphale’s leg to the side, spreading out his thighs further. It meant he could get closer, that Aziraphale could feel the rub of Crowley’s scales. All of it was—too much. Too much, and then Crowley was sliding against him so their chests pressed together so he could flick his tongue out in the shell of Aziraphale’s ear.

“To know how _good _it feels,” Crowley’s voice was dangerous. “To know how you were made for this.” A second finger worked right inside along the first; Aziraphale’s mouth fell open in a silent cry. He hadn’t expected that; he hadn’t even thought that he would be able to _take_ more. But there it was, nestled up inside of him where Crowley spread his fingers, stretched him wider.

“See?” Crowley pressed a kiss into his cheek. “_Made _for it,” he whispered. “Soon, you’ll be taking _cock_, angel.”

Aziraphale shivered and nodded quickly. He expected Crowley to just continue like that, with fingers and looks, but Crowley surprised him. Just kept surprising him. Suddenly, Crowley’s mouth was over Aziraphale’s neck, kissing little marks down from his ear and around to the front. Aziraphale’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped, and Crowley sucked right above it. He pulled back when he’d left a blooming purple mark and smiled. Aziraphale’s thighs twitched apart farther with every inch of body Crowley descended.

A third finger, and Crowley was using his free hand to roam Aziraphale’s body. Where Aziraphale thought he would be _put off_ by his own size, Crowley seemed enthralled with it. He dragged over Aziraphale’s rolls, grabbed at the extra weight on his hips, and dragged him closer. Aziraphale’s hips worked on their own, rolling down onto Crowley’s fingers. And then—_then_, Crowley was dragging his tongue in the space between Aziraphale’s fat pecs; Aziraphale jumped, gasped.

“Sensitive,” Crowley hissed. He licked over Aziraphale’s left nipple and marveled at the way Aziraphale shivered, the way he seemed to arch into Crowley’s mouth. It was a silent, begging invitation. Crowley stole the invitation and sucked Aziraphale’s nipple into his mouth. He tugged on it with his teeth, stretching the skin, sucking over it until Aziraphale cried out. Crowley dragged his free hand back down to grab Aziraphale’s cock just in time with his fingers.

“You,” Crowley muttered into his skin, “are _quite_ the offering. I think I should keep you here.”

“C-Crowley—” Aziraphale gasped. Crowley didn’t give him a second to rest, not with the sound out of Aziraphale’s lips. He was gasping, an orgasm close. Crowley was going to drag it out of him before they moved towards the next step, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but want it more. His hips working, his back arched. Crowley sucked over his right nipple now, laved over it with his tongue, and moaned around it.

Aziraphale came a second later, Crowley’s name on his lips, and then Crowley was pulling back. His fingers, his hand, his _mouth_. Aziraphale found himself whimpering before he realized he could even make a noise so pathetic. But Crowley wasn’t touching him anymore, and he craved that touch. It made him _feel_. There was a mess splattered over the underside of his stomach, on Crowley’s hand. Crowley had the audacity to lick his fingers. He made a show of it. A painfully arousing show where Crowley’s tongue showed off just how long it was, how it wrapped up around his forefinger.

“Up,” Crowley said, then, tongue away. “I’m going to show you how _wonderful_ this is.”

Aziraphale didn’t even have to move. Crowley did the work for him, with his tail. He coiled around Aziraphale and dragged him up, into his lap until Aziraphale’s legs split over Crowley’s tail, and their cocks rubbed together. The sound that Aziraphale let out was nothing short of a whimper, a pathetic and needy little whimper. He was too sensitive, but Crowley still wrapped his hand around them and stroked. He coiled his tail a little tighter, using it as leverage to move Aziraphale as he pleased. Forward, closer, until Crowley grabbed onto his hips instead and kissed into his neck, Aziraphale’s face uselessly pressed into his shoulder.

“I can’t, I _can__’t_,” Aziraphale muttered.

“You _will_,” Crowley insisted. “This is about me, now, angel. What I want, and I want _you_. I want you breathless,” he said, his hands sliding around to grip Aziraphale’s cheeks and pull them apart, “and helpless over my cocks. You don’t _have_ to want it.”

Aziraphale did. He wanted it so bad, he couldn’t contain himself. He let himself be moved, shifted around until his back was pressed into Crowley’s chest, and he was split open over one of Crowley’s cock’s. The second one nestled right up under his bollocks. It rubbed into Aziraphale’s skin, made him shiver, and left him wet. And then, no. There was no time for resting. Crowley wouldn’t let it happen, but Aziraphale didn’t have to do any work. Crowley did all of it—he used his hold on Aziraphale, the tight coil of his tail all up his body, to move him. To _fuck_ him. Every slide of his cock inside Aziraphale’s arse was just another lighting of a fire. Aziraphale cried out with each thrust, shifted his own legs, and soon he was working himself back down.

He never thought he’d find himself in a situation like this, with Crowley’s tail half coiled around his midsection. The very tip of it was flicking over his nipples, like if it had the flexibility to do so, it would have wound itself up tight around Aziraphale’s fat tit and squeezed it. Aziraphale wished it could happen. He might have touched himself if that wouldn’t have made it so obviously how badly he wanted this. Instead, he had himself braced on the hard line of Crowley’s tail between his thighs, fucking himself Crowley’s cock like that wasn’t just as bad as touching himself. Maybe, though. If he just leaned back. If he let Crowley _take_—Crowley would just know what he needed.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley’s voice behind him. It shocked him, almost, so lost in the feeling of his own pleasure. Of Crowley’s cock splitting him open time and time again, every thrust—

“Lean back, dove,” Crowley whispered, and Aziraphale fell back into his chest, gasping at the sudden change of pressure. It was like Crowley’s cock was deeper, all of it multiplied by Crowley’s sudden grasp on his cock. “Do you want both of them?”

“N-No—” Aziraphale gasped, but he nodded. He nodded so quickly he would near give himself a headache, but Crowley kissed him and soothed him with a hand over his chest, rubbing over his nipple.

“Do you want it to feel even better?”

“I-I can’t take much more,” Aziraphale whimpered. “Please—_Please, _let me go—”

“Aw, now,” Crowley feigned concern, “you don’t want that. No, I know you don’t want that. You want to stay here in my lair with me, don’t you? Please me.”

Aziraphale didn’t bother to deny that, just rolled his hips over Crowley. He could get off on it, that thought, being held here for Crowley’s personal use. What a horrid thing for an angel to think, especially one so recently deflowered, but he craved it. He craved this feeling. He didn’t know if he could go without it, but that was a thought for another time. So far, he wouldn’t _have _to go without it. Crowley had cupped his cock, his balls, and held them up. Just a gentle pull, enough that Aziraphale let his eyes close.

“Just a little shifting,” Crowley said into his hear. He took a pause to nibble on his lobe. “And you can open up right here for me, can’t you,” Crowley slid his finger down Aziraphale’s perineum. “If you cooperate,” Crowley growled, “I’ll let you go. I won’t keep you here.”

Crowley had said one thing, but Aziraphale knew what he meant. It was a quiet, secret thing. It was Crowley telling him it was _okay_ if he did this, because it wouldn’t be want. No one had to know how badly Aziraphale wanted this but Crowley, and Crowley would keep that close to him for the rest of their lives. But with that one sentence, Aziraphale’s next actions didn’t seem so much like want. They would seem like cooperation for the greater good, that if he just did as this _monster_ told him, he would be freed faster.

Aziraphale’s body changed at his own will, then. His cock shifted, his pelvis split and bloomed into a wet, fat cunt. Crowley wasted no times dipping his fingers between the folds. Aziraphale jolted and moaned, his shaking pushing him back over Crowley’s cock. In just the right way so the cockhead of it brushed over Aziraphale’s prostate and sent flames up his spine. It was all Crowley could do to keep him still, pressed back into him. His hand hadn’t relented over Aziraphale’s chest. He squeezed the flesh, tweaked Aziraphale’s nipple, and wrapped his arm farther over to reach his other tit. Aziraphale’s jaw fell open when Crowley’s fingers moved again through his folds, stopping over his clit where he rubbed and circled the little thing.

“C-Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped. Every nerve in his body was suddenly going off, lighting off.

“Just open up for me, angel,” Crowley whispered. “I’ll make it good for you. Right here,” he said, emphasized only by the brush of his fingers over Aziraphale’s cunt. He was already dripping, already loose and open. He’d ensured he would be, but Crowley did so like to play with his food. He slipped his fingers past the opening, and Aziraphale keened. He worked his hips without any idea of what his goal was—he had Crowley’s cock in his arse, Crowley’s fingers in his cunt. In a long, long moment, he’d have Crowley’s second cock in his cunt, instead, and the idea had him moaning.

That moment was much shorter than he feared. It was mere seconds he had to wait before Crowley’s second cock was sinking between his folds, _inside _of him. He’d never felt so full, so controlled. Not when Crowley tightened his grip with his tail, held him close. He spread Aziraphale’s own slick over his prick and stroked him back to hardness, rocking into him. There were things he could _never_ do with legs, and this rolling movement, this horribly pleasant rumbling of his scales, the excess slick. None of it would have been possible, and Aziraphale counted every blessing. Counted every thrust, every time their bodies slapped together. His head had lulled back into Crowley’s shoulder, and they were kissing again.

Aziraphale was quickly finding he _loved_ kissing. He loved kissing Crowley—specifically. He didn’t know any human who could do things like that with his tongue It was like Crowley’s tongue was down his throat with how incessantly he attacked, and the rest of him just seemed to move without pretense. Crowley was everywhere, all around him in tail and hand and squeezing—Aziraphale could feel himself giving out. He was going to come again, at this rate. Come on both of Crowley’s cock, and the thought only briefly passed that Crowley would come, too. Inside him.

“Crowley—” Aziraphale gasped. “Crowley, I’m going to—”

“You are,” Crowley promised. He dropped a hand down to Aziraphale’s clit, then, to pressed down over it and roll it under his fingers. It was too much, all at once. Too much sensation, too much _good_—Aziraphale liked good. He loved it. He wanted more than he could handle, and it set off a now-familiar heat in the pit of his stomach. “You’re going to come over my cocks, aren’t you? That’s what I _want_,” Crowley hissed. “If you don’t, how can I say you’ve offered me anything?”

Aziraphale gasped and worked his hips down over Crowley. It took seconds, after that, for the heat to bubble up and boil over. Aziraphale was coming a second later, clenching down over Crowley’s cocks. He gushed in excess, soiling over Crowley’s tail. Another second, and his prick spurted in Crowley’s hand. Crowley surged him forward, face down on the rock, and fucked into Aziraphale until tears were prickling out of his eyes. He’d stiffened up, gone so _tight_ after he’d come, and now every brush was just another bite of stimulation he couldn’t handle. Crowley bent down over him to hiss into his ear, shoving one last hard thrust into him.

“I’ll leave you with something too,” Crowley said. “Consider it a _gift_.”

“Thank you, thank you—” Aziraphale gasped, and Crowley clamped a hand over his mouth quickly. To shut him up, to keep him _innocent_. He shoved his fingers into Aziraphale’s mouth a second later, to let him such and lick the slick from them.

After Crowley pulled back, there was silence. Aziraphale laid there on the rock, spread out and fucked, for a long enough moment that he hadn’t realized anything changed. All there was left was Crowley’s tail curled around him on the rock, and Aziraphale stroked over it with his fingers. Neither of them had planned for this, but Aziraphale could almost smell it too. It wasn’t want, so to say, like Crowley had accused. It was something softer, warming. More beautiful, and Aziraphale smiled.

“You can’t stay,” Crowley said. “Bad for you, being an angel. Shouldn’t consort with demons.”

“I believe I was consorting with a god,” Aziraphale teased, but he did shift. He shifted awkwardly, up to his knees, and staggered. “What—”

“Told you I’d leave you with something, didn’t I? Didn’t want you to forget me so fast,” and Crowley surged up to wrap his arms around Aziraphale. “You gave me such a _good_ offering, angel. I couldn’t let you forget it.”

“What did you _do_, Crowley, I feel—”

“Stuffed? Full? _Used_?”

Aziraphale nodded, a bit helpless. He shivered when Crowley’s fingers brushed down between his cheeks, over his gaping hole. Inside was something stiff, waxy. It kept him full. Crowley had come inside him, and this—this _thing_ prevented anything from leaking away. Crowley’s other hand proved the same fate for his cunt, when he brushed his fingers through Aziraphale’s folds and toyed around the plug. The touches lasted mere seconds before Crowley had pulled away entirely to snap his fingers. Aziraphale’s robes were returned as if he’d never lost them, and all mess was cleaned from his body. Not from inside. When he stepped down off the rock, he could feel how stretched open Crowley had left him.

“I’ll stop tempting,” Crowley said. “You’ve convinced me.”

“I didn’t—” but when Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley, he was smiling.

“Not forever, you know,” Crowley continued. His tail flicked up in the air, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but watch. “Maybe I’ll need convincing again, somewhere else.”

“I will be there to stop you,” Aziraphale replied. “I always am.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Crowley smirked. “Those are _mating_ plugs I’ve left you with.” Like that explained it all. Maybe it did.

Aziraphale eventually did leave, though there was a bit of a strange little jump in his step, when he did. He didn’t mind the stretch. In fact, he reveled in it. Like Crowley had sensed how much he’d loved that idea of being kept around for Crowley’s own personal use and decided on a cute little compromise instead. If Aziraphale stopped long enough to inspect his _gifts_, he might even find himself coming again. He shouldn’t think about things like that, though. Not when there were other, more pressing matters. Like, specifically, when the next time he’d see Crowley would be.

**Author's Note:**

> 𓆏 I Still Got It Baby  
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